


She's The Man. Part 1

by scarlettandblue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:41:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5642959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettandblue/pseuds/scarlettandblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 3 - Dean gets turned into a girl by an annoyed witch, who promptly disappears. As every curse, it needs to be broken before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's The Man. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Galadwen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadwen/gifts).



Just like every other bad thing in Dean's life lately, it started with a stupid difference of opinion between him and Sam, and then Sam just would not quit.

In fact Sam was still muttering as they trudged up the steps to the neat suburban porch for Dean to ring the bell. And even as they both flipped open their fake FBI credentials when the door began to open, Dean was well aware of the sour look Sam shot his way, before they both looked at the home-owner with their _professional-but-caring_ Government Employee game-faces in place.

"Sorry to trouble you, sir. We're looking for Mr Ban?" Dean said.

The man behind the screen door just stared at him.

"Caleb Ingmar Ban?" Sam added with that earnest little smile he often broke out for reluctant witnesses.

"Who wants him?" The home owner replied gruffly.

"Agents Tyler and Perry, FBI," Dean crowded closer to the screen holding the badge up a little higher, ready to push into the house if needed.

The man looked between them suspiciously for a second, but a noise from inside the house distracted him and he sighed and pulled the screen door inwards, nodding his head in a grudging invitation. Dean followed him inside then Sam, who pulled the screen shut behind him.

They ended up in a musty room full of overstuffed furniture and a large number of glass cases containing what was obviously an out of control obsession with taxidermy, given how many beady eyed birds and disturbingly sharp-toothed rodents were on display.

"We were given your name by the Local PD, Mr Ban. They said you reported your employer missing." Dean said, shifting uneasily, all those beady eyes and pointy teeth were giving him agita.

"It was a mistake."

"A _mistake_?" Mr Ban and his creepy living room full of dead things was already getting on Dean's last nerve.

"How so?" Sam took over, with a glare at Dean.

"He'd just gone away for a few days."

"Without letting you know? Is that usual?"

"He's the boss. Can do what he likes." Mr Ban did not sound happy with this arrangement.

"But there must have been a reason to go to the Police; something troubled you?" Sam was playing Good Cop like the overgrown Boy Scout he was.

Ban just sat there, glaring at Sam.

"Only he's not at home, and also we heard your boss was the fifth person to be reported missing this week."

Ban shrugged.

"So if you know anything, even if you think it doesn't matter. Even if it seems  
far-fetched. We're just trying to understand what happened."

Ban didn't answer, but his expression morphed into something weaseley. 

Dean held his breath and forced himself to sit still. Not to fill the silence with some kind of threat. He would never admit it to Sam, but maybe his brother was right about him. Maybe work wasn't the best way for him to get over all the things that had happened. 

Maybe he needed a total change. Something beside his own bad head-space to focus on. But first they needed to get this case resolved. Dean sighed and said. "Look, Mr Ban I'll level with you. Some people in this town have been talking about witches. So, you know, if you think some of your neighbor-wives have gone Eastwick all over this town's ass you won't be the first person to tell us that."

Ban swallowed and shifted in his seat, glancing around the room like maybe one of his moth-eaten dead pals might have an answer.

"We're the FBI, Mr Ban." Dean smirked just a little and added, "We have the X-Files. We know how to put a stop to a group of evil bitches making the good citizens disappear. If you _want to believe_ it's magic, fine by me."

"Oh I'm sure Cal has no difficulty believing in Magic."  
The booming voice coming from the doorway startled Dean, and he jumped to his feet hand poised to draw his weapon.

"Forgive me for interrupting." The man standing in the door way was elegantly dressed, with a silver beard and heavy brows. Dean guessed that Sam would think he looked like one of those older Brit actors who where always popping up as cameo roles in Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. Dean just thought he looked like another rich douche.

The man smiled rather fondly at Sam, then gave Dean a raised eyebrow and smirk combo that he'd always figured was the rich douchey guy version of the finger.

"We were just asking Mr Ban about the recent disappearances. Maybe you can help Mr...?" Sam smiled at the older man, it was like some kind of mutual appreciation society all twinkly eyed old geezer and Sam smiling like a star-struck fanboy.

"Nothing to worry about dear boy, simply a case of miss-communication and bad timing"

"This is a serious FBI matter," Dean growled, he'd just about had it with this guy. "So step outside and we'll get to you once Mr Ban has answered our questions."

"Of course _officer_ Winchester. I just thought as the subject of your investigations, it might be helpful to have proof that I am not, in fact, missing. It was all a mistake. Tell him, Cal."

"This is Mr Milan. Like I already said, he's not missing. It was a mistake" Ban parroted back.

"You're John Wayne Milan?" Sam asked.

"Yes, but you can call me Duke, all my friends do."

"What happened?" Dean interrupted before all the sweetness of the _Sammy and Duke's budding new friendship show_ put him in a coma and derailed the hunt.

"I was offered a lodge at the local Spa, it was a last minute deal. I had some matters to discuss so I invited everyone along. It's a beautiful place, The Mystic Isle, perfect for work and play, so we settled our business and then we has some lovely spa treatments. Very relaxing, some might say spiritual."

"What friends?" Dean's instincts were screaming at him that something was wrong here, something obvious he'd missed because he was off his game. And he knew he was mostly still alive because he trusted those instincts.

"My daughter and our business partner Mr Antonio, Mr Gonzalo, his legal adviser, and another family friend. We five have formed a private consortium."

"Gonzalo and Antonio were two of the others reported missing." Sam interrupted, as he leafed back through his notes.

"Yes, as I say it's all a bit of a misunderstanding I'm afraid Sam, but as you can see there's really been no harm done."

Suddenly it all slotted into place and Dean reached for the iron blade he had in his pocket growling under his breath, "Witches, I knew it, evil fucking man-witches." 

But instead of getting up he found himself frozen in place, as Milan whispered something under his breath and made a swift gesture with his hand and then said louder, "That is quite enough from you Dean!"

Sam made a move, but he too found himself frozen in place with a gesture from Milan.

"He knows who we are Sam." Dean muttered to his brother.

"Dean, everyone who isn't, how shall I put this? Ah yes, a _muggle_ knows who you are. Your reputation for slashing and burning first and asking questions later is depressingly predictable. The pall of your arrival hung over town like a ghastly smog"

"Hey!" Dean struggled uselessly against his invisible bonds.

"Maybe we can talk about this?" Sam tried to sound like the voice of reason, while also testing his invisible bonds for weakness.

"Ah Sam, dear boy. To be honest the consensus among those of us in the Supernatural world is that this might actually turn out to be a relief for you. You must be exhausted after all this time. After all your trials and struggles, and this latest showdown with The Darkness. Think how much of a relief it will be to lay your burden to rest at last. Everyone knows you have wanted to get out of the life for a long time"

"Leave Sammy out of this you son of a bmmhhhf..." Dean suddenly found he had been invisibly gagged as well. 

"I find it hard to choose which is the most objectionable, Dean. The over-compensating machismo, the indiscriminate violence or the powerful stench of misogyny."

Dean blinked up at him. As insults went this Milan was an amateur. For a start, of course Dean was macho. Hunting was a completely masculine line of work. Ditto for the violence, ganking evil sons of bitches was a totally bad-ass occupation, so those first two were more like badges of honor. 

But the guy was simply out of his gourd with that last thing. Dean was definitely not into any of that weird filthy fetish stuff. In the deepest, darkest, secretest place where his deepest darkest almost completely buried fantasies lived, he might, on occasion, have thought about silk and lace panties, but they were _clean_ panties, thank you very much. He wasn't some kind of pervert. 

Milan smirked at Dean, there was a definite twinkle in his eye, the douche, as he turned back to Sam and added, "I must say I'm a little tempted to leave him just the way he is. He's so clueless it's almost adorable, isn't it, Sam? But a decision has been made. And I have the task of passing sentence." 

"Please don't..." Sam started to ask before he found himself invisibly gagged as well.

Dean closed his eyes for one second because he figured this was it, and if it was he prayed that at least it would be final this time. No get out of hell free card, no weary resurrection. The only thing he regretted was not saying goodbye to Cas, but he hoped he understood. Then Dean snapped his eyes open again, because who was he kidding? No way was Dean Winchester facing his final ending like a chick in a slasher movie. Dean Winchester was a guy who stared death in the face, before stabbing him in the back with his own scythe. 

There was a terrific crash from upstairs, as if some huge bird had flown into the attic skylight then tumbled down the roof and off the veranda before landing with a flump in the flowerbeds out front. 

Milan smiled again and Dean swore he said something about wards but it was drowned out by the sound of a terrific storm descending on them. Wild wind blew against the walls and windows making them groan and creek like a storm tossed ship. And rain drummed down in torrents against the roof. Milan intoned words of power in a huge booming voice " _reformabit pati discas respectu_ "   
There was the crash of thunder and the crack of lightning then the scent of ozone and electric filled the air. Everything whited out.

And then there was nothing.

 

 

Then there was something.

 

 

The sheets were cool and soft and the bed was surprisingly comfortable, but the smell was unmistakable. Hospital.

Dean wanted to sit up but every part of him ached. Even parts that had no business acing ached. His fucking eyelids ached so bad he had to fight to open his eyes.

There was a soft kind of ambient lighting, the beeping of medical monitors and the shape of a huge man slumped in a tiny bedside chair. Yes he was definitely in hospital. But he had no idea why. Apart from the fact he felt like he might have had every bone and some vital non-bone parts of his body broken and fixed slightly wrong. It felt like someone had run him through a meant tenderizer. Twice.

He must have made some kind of noise because the Sam shaped lump in the chair roused and grumbled, "De..er.." Then Sam did the weirdest thing, he glanced over his shoulder like he thought someone might be watching, before he continued, "Dee, you're not supposed to be awake yet. Go back to sleep." 

Dean felt an even greater spike of worry and tried to ask, "W's wron S..s..Sammy?" But even his throat felt like he had used sandpaper to gargle.

"Here, try a sip of this." Sam shoved a straw at his mouth and Dean took a sip of the best thing he had ever tasted. Stale, luke-warm tap water, who knew?

"What's wrong wi...."

But Sam was fiddling with something by Dean's arm. Then a wash of pure icy sweetness rushed up his arm and whited out his brain in sizzling snow-blind numbness and shut Dean down mid word.

 

 

Next time he work up all the pain was still there, but kind of in the background where he could ignore it. His mind was still a blank as to what had happened to him.

Sam wasn't around and Dean tried to catalog his injuries hoping it might jog his memory. But the weird pains were in places not normally the target of a beat-down. And there was some kind of screaming agony inside him that spoke of internal injuries but no corresponding external source, and while Dean was more than familiar with the usual kick in the balls parting shot of almost every beat-down he had received, something felt different this time, even through the glorious sweet indifference of his super strength painkillers.

Dean concentrated on his hands, and gradually he managed to get them moving, starting the slow painful process of patting down to get a feel of just what was wrong. His hands had barely made it up to his stomach when the door swung open and Sam was back in the room.

"Dean!" Sam dropped the stuff he was carrying on to his little bedside chair and grabbed Dean's hands pinning them back down by his sides.

Dean struggled, but he had all the strength of a dust bunny at the moment against his Gigantor brother, but his voice still worked and he shouted, "Get off me Sammy!"   
Okay he whispered but Sam _knew_ how pissed he was, because he snatched his hands away.

Or maybe that was Nurse Perky-Smile who suddenly appeared behind Sam, put a firm hand on his upper arm and pulled, none too gently by the looks of it, as she said, "What did you agree with Dr Lutrell?"

Sam's expression was pained as he turned his face towards the nurse and said very quietly, "You don't understand, he's not ready for this yet."

"No, _you_ don't understand. You are only here because it's the weekend and the Hospital lawyers can't contest your Next of Kin Status and the medical proxy until the courts open on Monday. Now kindly step aside so that I can treat my patient, or I will have you removed for endangerment."

And Dean watched in horror as his brother stepped back letting the nurse up by the bed. She smiled warmly at him and said, "I'm Nurse Shelly-Marie and I'm gonna take good care of you sugar. I've had a lot of experience with your procedure so you know you're in good hands." She fiddled with the drips and checked the monitors, and noted the readings in Dean's chart. She changed out an empty fluid bag for a full one. And then she turned to Sam and said, "You need to leave the room now so I can check the surgical area."

Dean already knew something was off with this situation and the nurse giving off some kind of a crazy vibe so he did not want to be left alone with her; he shook his head and said. "Sam can stay. I've been banged up before, in a car wreck, and some other accidents, so it ain't like Sam's never seen me like this. We've been working on a... a _case_ in Missouri. I guess there was an accident. "

Nurse Shelly-Marie gave Dean the most disapproving look as she pushed Sam towards the door. "You should not have been working so soon after the procedure, and I do not care how close you were as _brothers_ it is not appropriate now. Sam needs to scoot or I'll call security."

"No, I want Sam to stay. And I want you to tell me what the fuck is going on." Dean knew he was beginning to sound a little crazy himself, but he did not like this situation one bit.

The nurse ignored him and took some sterile supplies from the cupboard, opening the first package and putting on the plastic apron then getting what looked like sterile dressings, wound pack, some kind of tube and some gel stuff. 

Once all the supplies were laid out she fixed Dean with a no-nonsense look and said. "Now Dee, this ain't rocket science. We don't know why you had the sudden reaction that brought you here, but Dr Lutrell checked you over completely and there are no problems with the surgery. In fact she said it was some of the finest work she'd ever seen, the sutures must have been microscopic to have healed with almost no scaring. Even your problems didn't result in any tearing, and although there is an inexplicable level of swelling the meds we have you on should have taken care of that and ensured there's no infection. So now it's time to get back to your post op care routine. I'll help you with it this time, but then it's up to you to keep it up. Dilation five times a day, remember?"

Dean had no idea what any of this meant and he watched Nurse Scary-Marie in an increasing state of horror as she picked up the tube, which he now realised was a small dildo, and started lubing it up.  
"Sam, you get me out of here right now." Dean was already struggling to sit up and made a grab for the IV line. "Sammy, I swear to God if you don't get me away from this crazy witch I'm..."

Dean didn't know if it was Sam or the nurse who threw the switch on his meds this time, but he was just grateful as the cool wash of blessed oblivion made all the crazy shit go away.

 

 

The third time he came back on-line Dean was aware of a quiet conversation going on. He tuned in to what was being said and recognised Sam saying, "...and I am behind those choices, one hundred percent behind them. My God," Sam laughed but there didn't seem to be much humor in him as he continued, "If only you knew how ironic this was." 

"With your denial of the situation it is hard for us to draw any other conclusion."

"No Doctor, you haven't been listening to what I was telling you. You based your whole course of action on those first few confused minutes."

Dean tried to keep still and quiet. He figured he was finally going to hear what the fuck was happening.

"I save lives drawing conclusions from the first confused minutes, that's often all you get with emergency medicine."

"Well sorry Doctor, but this time you need to hear all the facts first, because I made a mistake, that's all."

"Now just you listen to me young man, my first and only priority is the health of my patient, I'm not here to hand-hold family members." 

Dean could imagine the bitch-face that Sam was giving the Doc right now. He heard his brother take a deep breath and then in a super-calm voice he said, "I last saw my brother, Dean, six months ago. We were working on a a job in Missouri, and when it was finished he disappeared. The next thing I know he turned up where I was working in Jacksonville. From the look of him I thought he had changed his plans; I had absolutely no idea he had gone ahead with the surgery. He was kind of muddled and then he crashed and it looked serious, so I drove him here because Springfield Memorial was the nearest big hospital. We never had a chance to talk and that is the _only_ reason for the confusion when we first arrived at the ER." 

Dean's head was spinning at the idea he had been missing for six months, because the last thing he remembered _was_ the missing people in Missouri. He lost track of the conversation when Sam suddenly hissed right in his ear. "I know you're awake, but keep playing dead." Then louder he continued, "I just want the chance to find out what Dee remembers, what's causing all this trauma. Shelly-Marie must have told you that she had to use sedation again. _That_ can't be good for your patient either, Doctor Lutrell."

"Yes. Well you've made your point young man. As long as you remember who's in charge here I'll leave you to your visit."

Dean waited until all the rustling and shifting sounds ended and he guessed that Sam had dragged his chair close to the bed. Slowly he opened his eyes, and sure enough Sam was sat forward elbows planted on the bed chin resting in his hands. 

Sam's long hair was hanging forward so at least it was useful as it probably hid what was going on when Dean asked. "Have I really been missing six months?"

"No, that was just bull-shit for the doctor. We don't have much time and you need to stay cool if you want to get out of here, understand?"

"Yeah, okay." 

"So, four nights ago we were chasing up Milan, remember?"

Dean fought through his fuzzy memories and recalled, "The room with the dead birds?"

"And Milan, was super-pissed at you, yeah?"

"Aren't they all?"

"I'm not shitting you Dean, this is seriously fucked. He cursed you."

Dean felt his stomach clench, wasn't there supposed to be a limit to the number of times one person could be cursed? 

But the tensed muscles reminded him of his internal injuries and he tried to force his body to relax and he asked, "So, cursed and then what? A beat down?"

Sam shut his eyes and shook his head. His expression was so pained that even though Dean couldn't imagine something worse than being cursed to die every day in a hundred bizarre ways while Sam had to watch, or being eaten alive by Hell-hounds then dragged into Hell and tortured for thirty years before spending ten more years as the torturer to jump the apocalypse, or being cursed as an archangel's meat-suit so you can kill your own brother, the devil's meat-suit, or being marked as blood-lust stone killer or a living demon and beating the crap out of everyone you love, or even having to be the conduit that forced a tiny piece of darkness into every living thing on earth, to avert the next apocalypse; that had all been so bad his mind couldn't conjure something worse. 

"Dean. Do. Not. Freak. Out."

Dean swallowed and waited for it.

"He turned you into a girl, well a woman I suppose."

Dean stared at Sam. Then glanced down at his hands, they sure still looked like his hands, and while his voice was rough still he sounded like himself, and he felt like himself. And now he had go check so he managed to raise one hand up and patted at his chest just to be sure, there weren't any boobies. "Pretty sure he didn't Sam"

"No, Dean. Not turned you into a girl with a wave of his magic wand, or with a twitch of his nose and a shower of sparkles and suddenly it's Princess Leia instead of Han Solo."

"Then what?"

"Surgery."

Dean didn't know what to say. It was like his brain couldn't compute.

"I know how difficult this must be, but Dean.."

"This isn't _difficult_ Sam, this is a cluster-fuck, so do not try that empathy shit on me."

"Okay the no empathy version, fine! You had the full surgery, I _know_ you know what means because I have to deal with your browser history clogging up my laptop on a regular basis. You need to get your shit together, take the meds, do the exercises or whatever else it takes so that we can get the hell out of here."

Dean reached for a little bravado and said, "Easy as that." But it still came out more like a question than an affirmation.

"Yes, _Dee_. Easy as that."

 

TBC

**Author's Note:**

> This story uses the real world way of turning Dean into a "girl" instead of magic. I hope that using the idea of transformative surgery to achieve the change rather than pure magic does not offend,please believe this is not may intention. Also please accept my apologies if my poor research or lack of understanding of the issues involved causes offence. I have not set out to offend anyone. This is a gift so it is written in a light-hearted way, this does not mean to disparage the real-life difficulties and heart-ache of people who are touched by these choices. Finally my sincere apologies for not getting this finished. There are excuses but for all that I am sorry not to have got this finished. Rest assured I will finish this for you.


End file.
